


Cat Days.

by Puimoo



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:03:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puimoo/pseuds/Puimoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madara is stripped of his majestic real form for the first time, and goes into hiding.  While there, he meets the most interesting little boy.  Madara and Natsume centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat Days.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamer1789](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer1789/gifts).



There were certain perks that came with being a god. Divinity wasn't something that was simply handed out to any youkai, although Madara had heard enough snide comments about how he'd just happened to be napping in the right sunspot at the right time to not be aware that some youkai (usually the stupid, powerless ones) thought differently. Those youkai were naturally squished beneath a large fur paw, or chewed on briefly before being spat back out (their bitterness ruled them out as even a half-decent meal). 

Still, being as magnanimous as Madara was (and it was really one of his most unappreciated qualities, given how many annoying youkai he actually let live), he could understand where others overt and petty jealousy came from. The perks, after all, were magnificent.

The best cuts of meat at every barbecue.

The most potent of sake, served up in fine china cups that were as thin as the finest sliver of hair.

The shadiest spot in the forest for your shrine.

Bliss. Well deserved, of course, but bliss all the same.

There was just one catch, minor as it was. There was a certain level of decorum that had to be maintained by those who held such positions of superiority, least you become the laughing stock of the youkai world and demoted to the left over pieces of onion and green peppers, or poured the diet, non-alcoholic beverages that made a mockery out of even water. You were allowed to rampage, destroy, and bring about the end of all times (this was, in fact, encouraged). However, if you were made a fool of in any shape or form – especially by those pathetic humans – then you slid into a great big pit of disgrace that could not be escaped from even if you possessed the most silver of tongues.

It was why when Madara was reduced to a fat, rolly-polly ball of cat-thing for the very first time, his majestic form stripped away be a spell that would never quite leave him, Madara retreated immediately into hiding. His quick mind had suggested that camouflage was his best bet at hiding such an uncouth deformity, and the toy store had seemed like a perfectly snug spot to try and sleep the spell off.

And, it had been. At 9 at night when the store was closed. It had been quite comfy, in its own way, although Madara was sure the blue teddy bear on the opposite shelf had been eyeing him suspiciously all night.

9pm? Dignity maintained. 9am?

Hell on earth.

It wasn't the youkai who were going to bring about the destruction of the world (if they ever stopped drinking and eating and bickering long enough to get around to it), but these beastly, ugly child-monsters that stalked the corridors and rained their evil intentions down on his poor, fellow prisoners. As shifty as the bear had been, it did not deserve its death beneath the wheels of a trolley, nor did the elephant to Madara's left do anything to warrant the jam-thick hands that had smothered away every ounce of respect from its previously silky grey fur. In horror, there was nothing he could do as he was squished, poked, and even chewed, except silently wish death on them all.

By the time small, chubby hands gently sank into his fur and picked him up off the shelf, Madara had had enough. What was dignity – divinity? - if you could not flatten an army of little monsters when they unleashed a full on assault on you? So most of his powers had been stripped away, he still had sort-of claws and what passed as teeth-

He'd planned to unleash both on the unsuspecting child, but then the stupid thing snuggled him in close against his tiny chest, cooing into his fur in a babble of incoherent baby talk. There was none of the squishiness of the other children, just a soft kind of warmth that reverberated down through the child and echoed through Madara's chest. This, this was sort-of nice. Relaxing, even. Madara did not at all purr, because he was a god and gods did not purr under any circumstances. Still, maybe going home with this gentle child would be a far more appropriate hiding place, especially if he continued to tickle behind Madara's left ear just like that... 

“Oh, Takashi. Really?” The exasperated voice held the same kind of warmth as the child, although Madara did not at all appreciated the laughter he also heard in it. “I don't think I've ever seen such an ugly toy before.” Madara bristled, shooting a sharp glare up at the pretty, young woman holding _his_ child. It was only because he was stuck in this stupid form that his usually potent gaze didn't have its normal effect. She was not impervious to all such powerful looks, however, as she began to falter immediately when Takashi turned his wide, wobbly eyes up at her, before he-

Damn it. Before he nibbling down possessively on Madara's ear. What _was_ it with these brats? 

“Hon, are you almost done?” More warmth, more humour, but this time from a man who dared intrude on the child's first attempt at emotional manipulation (clearly attempted under Madara's guidance and inspiration). The man managed to break the potent spell that Takashi's honey-brown eyes had cast, and Madara was detangled from his grasp and placed back on the shelf.

“Maybe next time,” the woman promised with light cheer, despicable and cruel despite her friendly and loving demeanour. The boy pouted sadly over her shoulder back towards Madara as the small family left, reaching out with tiny, desperate hands that stretched out right through to the tips of his fingertips before disappearing forever around the corner.

Maybe next time? Madara thought as a new pair of hands started pulling at his tail and laughing at the way it spiralled back inwards each time. Not a chance.

Next time, he'd try passing off as the real thing.

Real cats at least got fed.


End file.
